Malibu Bunker
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: The aftermath of Red John's demise was not blue heaven. It was a searing hell of isolation and self-recrimination. Both Jane and Lisbon lost their way and wandered apart, living in a world of hope destroyed. How will they ever find one another again? Warning! This story has mature sexual content. If you don't like that stuff, don't read this! Disclaimer: The Menalist? Don't own it.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N Thanks to country2776 on Tumblr for a little plot bunny that was the germ of this story. Also, thanks to mentalist_fanat on Twitter for reminding me of the wonderful line, "I've seen the worst side of you, and I have always loved you."**_

Teresa Lisbon had been fired. Well, forced to resign. Given a decent severance package. Nice. Maybe she was blacklisted in California. Hell, maybe in the United States. Not an agency around wanted to hire the agent involved in the renegade capture and killing of that murderous piece of scum, Red John. She had operated without warrants, excluded the agency hierarchy and run surveillance off the books. She had shot Red John in the back, in cold blood as he sauntered away from her. That was the story, anyway. Only she and one other person knew the truth. Under a lot of pressure as the CBI imploded, Internal Affairs had ruled it a righteous kill in self defense, under the shakiest of evidence, since Red John was going for a rifle behind him. The fact that it was ten steps away, well . . .

At least the corruption in the CBI had been exposed from the top down. It was so bad, there was no agency anymore. The FBI had stepped in to provide the needed services and help in both the full dismantling and the eventual restructuring. It would not include Agent Teresa Lisbon. Not that it mattered. Everything and everyone that meant CBI to her was gone. Nothing was left. Everyone had disbursed. Some in jail. Many dead. Some had fled or just wandered into the world somewhere. Some had taken other jobs. All had betrayed her. Maybe not Cho. But he had moved on, too.

Impossible! She'd always expected that Jane would leave CBI, go back to whatever it was he used to do, and she'd never see him again. But taking a job with the FBI? Without her? Impossible. That was Patrick Jane. The Mentalist. The man who always came up smelling like a rose. Or at least surrounded by people willing to bury the manure he created and call it feeding the roses. They didn't want her. Just the great case closer, Patrick Jane. If they only knew. Actually, they probably did.

The FBI had courted him and he'd accepted a consultancy position with them. Left her. Told her he had killed Red John and got the vengeance he needed for his family, CBI was gone and he needed to work, couldn't be idle or the thoughts he'd been fighting for years would overtake him like a tsunami and lose him somewhere in the deep ocean. Had to keep his mind occupied. He had left her when she'd needed him most. Fuck him.

She hadn't counted on the relentless nightmares.

The last time she had seen him, he looked like shit. He had lost too much weight. His eyes, with a droop that only deep sadness gave them, were sunken and shadowed, darting everywhere to avoid looking at her. It was the guilt that drove him from her. He couldn't face it and he couldn't face her. He was running. And it was killing him. She didn't need a weak little boy anyway. Fuck him. "Grow up, Jane," she had told him. But instead of meeting her challenge, he bowed his head, turned and walked away.

Lisbon went nowhere, saw no one. Holed up in her condo, she subsisted on delivery and the white noise of a television constantly going at a low volume. She tried to sleep during the day because she sure as hell couldn't sleep at night. After awhile, she'd stopped using her bed. There was no rest there. Sometimes she managed to doze on the couch during the day, but never for long. And soon the nightmares had chased her there.

The dreams with Jane were the worst. They triggered a longing to see him so keen, so desperate, that she could only curl in a ball, ache, and cry. All worthless, senseless activity. But she couldn't stop the dreams or the pain of them. She wanted to be near him, smell him, see his cocky posture and listen to his self-satisfied banter, be annoyed by the smug look on his face. At these low, low times Lisbon did not say, 'Fuck you, Jane.' She said, 'I love you. I need you. Come back to me, Jane.'

She never heard a word from him. And he deserved nothing from her. Fuck him.

She sold the condo. It just wasn't a place to live anymore. It was killing her and she had to get out, get away like the rest of them. She tried a by-the-week motel. But it only made her think of Jane and his living arrangements. He probably had an apartment somewhere by now. She wasn't about to waste her time keeping tabs on him. She sold the car, too, since she no longer had a garage.

Lisbon started drifting, soon unrecognizable to anyone from her past. Her hair had grown much longer, still beautiful and glossy, undulating in waves down her back, bangs on her forehead with a big gap that pointed like a flashing neon sign to her lovely eyes. Most days she put it in two braids; it was easier to do than one. But at night she let it loose, brushing until it gleamed, then scattered across her pillow like a chocolate flood.

She walked a lot, hopped on buses to go somewhere new. As the days and months rolled on, she ventured further and further afield, riding up and down the coastal highway.

It was anybody's guess how she ended up in Honolulu. One day she was in Los Angeles. The next she was in Hawaii. She stayed mostly at the Y. The building was old, but clean and cheerful, the room large and quiet with a wall of roll-open windows that looked into a lush lazy courtyard. She could get two squares a day without having to cook it herself and all the Kona coffee she could drink. Buses would take her anywhere she wanted to go. And she only wanted to go to the beaches.

Soon she was a creamier version of nut brown, perhaps like almond butter or moist pecans, freckles deeper and darker than ever. But her fathom-deep green eyes and the pink of her tongue and lips told her to be ripe, juicy, lush and full of health. Even without sleep. Maybe it was hard to tell under her tan, but she hadn't left the dreams in California. They were just as bad in Hawaii. Everyone got used to her yells and screams in the night and stopped banging on the door to see if she was all right. After all, everyone at the Y had a history, too.

Although Lisbon didn't really want to mix with the regulars she saw at the beaches, she watched them. The easy way they related to one another, gathered in groups, paired off to couple on towels on the sand. She watched them openly as many did, a hollow ache in her core that signaled both her loneliness and that nightmares would be especially bad when they came. Many of the women went topless without causing sensation, their brown breasts moving easily in counterpoint to their bodies. Lisbon decided to try at least that much abandon and found she loved it. Male interest was frequent but she spurned it quickly and everyone soon left her alone, respecting her need for solitude.

Playing with the ocean was the best, rolling on the waves, snorkeling, or just soaking at the shoreline. The water temperature was perfect, shocking the skin just a little before her body adjusted as if she belonged there. Something inside scolded, shamed her that she didn't deserve the little happiness she had found. Said she was wasting time. In the wrong place. The nightmares were a terror, torturing her every living minute with their withering aftereffects. Stealing the health she had won from sun, sea, and sand.

And just as suddenly, Lisbon was back in LA, dogged by sleeplessness and desperate to find a hole anywhere that would bring her peace. By now, Jane was an ulcerated wound in her psyche. Something sick that would not heal. She wanted to give up, even to die. But not without something of Jane. And she thought of his house in Malibu. She was sure he was not using it, if he ever would again. Did he still own it? She knew where he kept the spare key near the door. If she died, maybe she could die there. At least she would be with her now dearest beloved, the sea.

Not about to announce herself, Lisbon watched the house for several days from a distance and saw no activity whatsoever. Emboldened, on the fifth day she walked the perimeter, noting where the doors and ground-level windows were. The next day she found the key and let herself in, resetting the security code alarm from memory. What kind of detective would she be if she had not noted it when she watched Jane code it in years ago? She had immediately memorized it in case of what emergency she knew not. Perhaps this one.

She felt her intrusiveness immediately. But she felt her need more. Compromising, she looked for a stairway to a lower level, leaving the main house uninspected. She found herself in what her Chicago mind would call the basement. It was below ground but the wall with the exterior door was just another façade of the house, opening under cover of the deck that would be accessed from the main floor.

The room was a bit cluttered, but not bad and she could arrange things, put that old mattress on the floor and have a nice place to stretch out until the end came. Or, she went for a walk on the beach, whichever came first. The deck overhead provided shade and cover. And direct access to the ocean. It might not be such a bad place to die. No. She wouldn't do that. Even to Jane. Especially to Jane. It would be too cruel. And just too pitiful a death for her.

She would hide out here until she figured what to do next. When she had ordered the space for herself, she lay on the mattress and knew nothing for eighteen hours.

Lisbon awoke in a cocoon of gray light. Dust motes danced where it was palest at the windows facing the ocean. So quiet, private. And she had slept without a dream, clutching an old jacket of Jane's in her arms. She didn't know if it was the light of dusk or dawn from inside, but opening the door and gazing at the sea's horizon told her night was falling.

Hurrying to use the remaining light, Lisbon freed a giant ice chest, an old dining table and a little doublewide hibachi. With her bed, everything she needed was in this room! Rethinking her arrangements, she moved the hibachi out the door, setting it on a short stack of cinderblocks towards the outside edge of the deck cover. Tomorrow, she'd find a store nearby for ice and charcoal, a few groceries and some candles. This would do nicely!

A week later, Lisbon had learned the best times to be out on the beach topless without drawing attention. There were a few times so deserted on weekdays that she began to run into the ocean from cover completely naked and slither in the water like a seal for hours, naked in its cool silken touch, the two spooning like lovers. No one ever bothered her. Lisbon was not much different than other topless women on the beach. She just didn't have bottoms on either.

She confined complete nudity to weekdays during times she knew the beach was sparsely occupied. On weekends when the crowds surged, she holed up in the basement, listening to the surf, or covered herself in loose lightweight cottons that the breeze picked up and rattled around her body. She would walk down the beach and climb the dune steps to the house, sit on the elevated deck and watch the sunny crowd go by. When the crowd had disbursed by dark again, she shed her clothes and sliced the waves like a seal, naked and alive in the moonlight.

In a couple of months, Lisbon was ripe with health and the sea, walking naked along the beach at dusk like a petite goddess of the waves. She could have been made from the sand, by her coloring. Her rolling, hips, dancing breasts, fluttering flag of chestnut hair echoed the unceasing undulations of the sea, her new mother, from whose own breasts she drew life.

She liked to think that the sea had taught her to body surf, developing her own natural style simply from interacting with it. Her muscles had lengthened and firmed from swimming, her belly lean, her buttocks coiled tight and sported high.

She lay on a towel in the sand under the open cover of her basement hideaway one night as the moon rose over the sea, its reflection on the water a spear of light snaking towards her, rippling with the waves. She was overcome with lust, as if the moon poured hot honey into her core, her veins filling with it until it must ooze out of her skin. Her fingers picked up a long forgotten rhythm, caressing her where her own wet was deep and swollen, inviting the spear of the moon to ravage her. Her release raised the flesh all over her body as it rocked and sounded her lonely cries.

Her night with the moon seemed to open her up again, normalize her cycles of desire. Outside, it might be the spear of the moon. But inside, on her bed, it was Patrick Jane in her fantasies, making love to her with her own fingers, her arms clutching his jacket. It didn't matter. Her body felt normal for once, and she was doing normal things with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick Jane couldn't face what he had done. An entire agency was falling down around his ears, it's deep corruption exposed by the scrutiny placed on it because of the death of Red John. Actually, the cold-blooded murder of Red John. Jane knew this for a fact because he had killed the man himself. In front of Agent Teresa Lisbon, his partner, who had covered for him and lost her own job for it. She was a pariah in the law enforcement community now. It was his doing. And he could feel no remorse for the crime. His guilt was in destroying Lisbon.

The FBI wanted him to consult for them. What else could he do in a world raining nothing but chaos and recrimination? The team and virtually everyone he had known at CBI for the last ten years was disbursed. He couldn't just disappear into his motel room. He had to have something regular and productive to do while he sorted everything out in his life and found a new normal. He'd always dreamed it would be with Lisbon.

He wanted his life to be with Lisbon. But he couldn't even look her in the eye, knowing what she had given up for him. She may as well have laid down her life. It was gone anyway, and he had taken it. He had suffered for months after she'd disappeared. His insomnia had taken an impossible turn for the worse, he could hardly make himself eat and went into a deep depression. His colleagues in the FBI were great and tried to be supportive. But the truth was, he was pining, sickened by the loss of his partner and, face it, "soul mate." A stupid term for what he now knew was a very real thing.

Kim Fischer, his boss at the FBI, had set him straight. She'd seen what terrible shape he was in. Apparently she'd done deep background on him and correctly pinpointed what was eating at him, killing him.

He called her "Kimpossible." Her questioning of him was hard and she gave no quarter, accepted no bullshit and made him not only find the real answers inside of himself but tell them to her. She had been as good a therapist for him in her way as poor Sophie Miller was when his family had been murdered. Their relationship was professional in all other ways. He was grateful and would owe her for the rest of his life but she was not his partner and she made him see that, told him to find Lisbon. She had never asked him for the true story of Red John's demise.

But Lisbon was gone. Not even a trace. Her settlement payments went into a protected account that he had no intention of prying into or breaking. Kimpossible asked if he wanted her to put the resources of the FBI to find her, but he'd regretfully and gratefully declined. He would not violate Lisbon even to find her and bring her into his arms.

At least he could eat and sleep now, his frame filling with sleek muscle and flesh again, the haunted look gone from his eyes. Only the sadness and loneliness remained. And the endless searching in his dreams for Lisbon. He often woke from them crying as if he was a boy who'd lost his mother. And he felt that bereft. At those times, he cursed Red John again. The fiend had not only destroyed his past life but his dream of a future life with love and family, with Lisbon. His work at the FBI filled his time and his mind and that was not just necessary, but vital.

So Jane worked through the year until February, when he decided to take some days off around Valentine's Day. He and Angela had always celebrated that day in a big way, eventually including their little love, Charlotte, in the feasting and happiness. He'd go to Malibu, visit their graves and get whatever needed to be sorted, done. Kimpossible had talked with him about his ring and how it was still binding him. Taking it off shortly thereafter, he still carried it in his pocket every day. It was time to leave it behind and the Malibu house seemed like just the place, tucked in a safe spot as a fading memory.

Jane entered the house with the key on his keyring. If he had searched for the spare key, he would have found it right where he'd left it. It was musty from being closed up so long. Had it been a year? He always felt a little overwhelmed coming in. There was so much to be done and it would mean staying for days, even weeks if he sorted everything and got it back either in working order or ready for sale. He had never been able to bring himself to sell it. Such a beautiful place and right on the beach. He'd never be able to replace it. Perhaps he'd kept it, sensing that someday he would have resolved his pain enough to return. Fanciful thinking, but here he was, thinking it.

He didn't stay long, made a mental note of what he wanted to tackle this time and decided he could make the necessary calls and arrangements from a clean and comfortable motel room. Reaching into his jacket pocked for his keys, his fingers stumbled on his wedding ring and he pulled it out. He felt no pang of regret. No time like the present. He had become accustomed to not wearing it. Now it was time to grow used to not carrying it with him. Truly to let go. He drove off in the Citroen before Lisbon had even turned for home from her walk down the beach.

At the cemetery, Jane, as usual, felt no presence of his wife or child, but he talked to them anyway. Using his house key, he dug a narrow hole in the dirt over Angela's grave, about three inches deep, and dropped the ring into it. "Here. You keep it safe, sweetheart." He cried a little then, but covered the ring and felt he'd found the right resting place for it. Driving slowly away, he ate alone in the restaurant of his hotel and went up to his room for the remainder of the night.

For the first time in months, Lisbon dreamed of Jane. He felt far away, doing far away things. Right before she awoke, she thought she heard him call for her. Fighting consciousness, Lisbon called out. Her groin felt congested, full of sexual heat, desire that hurt her lower back and made her heart pound. She was afraid to touch herself, that she might not survive the explosion. But neither could she leave that kind of physical want unsatisfied. Her fingers soaked with slick the moment she folded them into her flesh. She shared the moisture with her nipples as she massaged her clit with the other hand. In moments she was curled into the squeeze she had on her vulva, everything thumping as she spun into a sense of solitude so total that she wept.

Extra thick-sliced bacon on the hibachi wrapped in pieces of baguette with mayonnaise and tomato. A huge mug of boiled coffee with sugar and heavy cream and a ripe pear. Lisbon relished her simple but wholesome breakfast. It would fuel her ritual morning walk, fully naked and hair braided on both sides. They fell nearly to her waist now, bowing out to skirt her full round breasts. Yes, her boobs were small, but they were perfectly shaped and well proportioned to her petite size. They were creamy mocha like the rest of her freckled body. The only pale skin left hid under them, between her upper thighs, her armpits, underneath the cheeks of her ass and the soles of her feet, always bare.

While she was gone, Jane drove up and came in. He didn't need a pad and pencil to remember the list he would make, but the contractor he hired would appreciate it. He wore a thin tee shirt and baggy Bermuda shorts that hung from his hips and drooped below his knees. His feet were in flip-flops. Tucking a hand in his pockets, he found an old ankle bracelet of colorful string and beads, fastening it with some pleasure at remembering his old, casual self.

The contractor seemed satisfactory and he left, promising to return the next day. Walking onto the deck, Jane sat at the outside table at first but, growing bored, decided to walk. He looked up and down the beach before he went inside. It was basically deserted, but he spied a small figure walking away far down the south side. Rather than descend the outside dune steps, he walked downstairs inside the house to go out the basement door.

What a surprise! He seemed to have a squatter. The lower room was organized for spare living. Things were neat although he noticed one of his old jackets lying next to the pillow on the mattress bed. Going out the door, he saw the clean camp kitchen area, the coals in the hibachi still red. He noted with surprise the hairbrush and covered rubber bands to one side. His squatter was a woman? Still, he proceeded cautiously since it was obvious the squatter could not be far away. Besides, he knew what physical power certain women could wield. Bad-ass Lisbon entered his mind and he chuckled before the pain speared him.

A swim would be just the thing to calm his nerves and erase Lisbon from his mind. Since the beach was deserted he removed his clothing and ran naked into the surf. He'd forgotten the liberation of it! Treading the silken water and bobbing with the waves, he watched as topless women and naked children strolled by. Occasionally someone fully naked would pass. It wasn't uncommon, and many relationships had begun in the informal beach community when naked women were "flagged" by naked men who found them appealing.

The small figure he spied coming toward the house was far enough away to make it safe to dash out of the water and under the deck. The woman was small and shapely, dawdling by splashing her feet in the surf or wading out to throw herself into a shallow wave. She was completely naked with long dark braids hanging from either side of her head. He was discreetly undercover within a few minutes, shaking out his hair. He decided to air dry before putting on his clothes.

Stepping into the open sun, the naked woman with the braids almost ran into him. Apparently she had decided to run for a while. But she did not run past. She stopped short, gaping at him from about ten feet away. He had probably shocked her, appearing naked out of nowhere.

"Oh! Sorry. I saw you down the beach but you must have decided on a run. I didn't mean to startle you. I see you like to dress the same as me." He smiled, trying to smooth any awkwardness away.

She said nothing, knowing immediately it was Jane. He looked the same even though she had never seen him naked. He didn't recognize her at all. She felt her whole body stir, the woman in her calling out. She was immediately wet between the legs as her nipples tightened and she moistened her lips with her tongue. It felt natural to want him. Her body lit inside like a torch. Something rose in her that was primal and knew what it wanted. Was he with someone now? It didn't matter. Her desire felt natural and she would make it clear to him. Let him spurn her.

Jane felt a little dizzy. He was beginning to pick up something familiar about her, but it hadn't surfaced to consciousness yet. He couldn't avert his eyes from her. How healthy she looked, how sleek. Her teeth were very white, her small feet stuck with sand. She seemed a creature of the boundary at earth and sea, her body unmarked by tan lines anywhere. A trim dark patch of curling hair marked the delta of her sex, moisture glistening just under, painting her upper thighs. Her pink nipples stood erect in the mocha cream mounds of her breasts. She was dazzling and she seemed to desire him.

When he looked into her great green eyes, a thunderbolt of every emotion he had ever felt for her struck him square in the chest and took his breath away. Forcing a massive gale of air into his lungs, he gasped it out, "Lisbon." It was a call and she heard it. This Lisbon didn't stop to analyze how her reaction would affect anyone, what repercussions, what unfinished business might be between them. This Lisbon, this Teresa, desired the man and nothing else mattered.

Lisbon watched the reality of her presence take hold of Jane's body. She knew enough about being human to know that during intense emotion, the body responds as a whole, every system contributing, including the sexual system, especially if desire underpins it. Jane's chest and neck reddened and he swallowed as his mouth watered and his beautiful long fingers made gentle grasping movements. A light sheen of tears made his eyes look glassy and his penis filled with blood, widening in girth and lengthening as it stood up. The tip already glistened.

Her pelvis seemed full of bees and she felt a trail of moisture drip down her thighs.

She leapt! Three graceful bounds and she was in his arms, rubbing her aching breasts and stiff nipples against his skin, his rigid cock rolling across her belly. She touched him with every part of her body that she could press on him. Not brazen or crass to Jane, she was like a cat, rubbing the scent of her body all over, to claim him.

But Lisbon wanted his mouth on hers. Placing her hands along his cheeks, she guided his face until their lips touched. They kissed tentatively, each fearing to be overwhelmed. They focused there, as they angled their heads to find the most comfortable fit for themselves.

And then Jane flashed her lips with his tongue, hot and sweet and wet. When he pulled it back into his mouth she speared her tongue to his lips and licked them slowly, demanding his mouth and he gave it to her.

She threw off his hands when he tried to settle them somewhere on her body, caress anything. She wasn't having any of it. She wanted his mouth and leaned into him, bracing her small hands on his forearms to use him as leverage for her demanding kisses. She consumed the coolness of his mouth, replacing it with her heat and her breath. When he opened fully, it was to touch the tip of his tongue to hers and then begin a deep dance of passion and hunger.

"I want you now," she breathed.

She smelled of the sea, of salt and wind and Jane wanted it all. He didn't want to wait, put her off while she called to him in immediate need. She was a grown woman who knew the sexual workings of a grown man. And she wanted him now!

Wrapping his arms around her back, he lifted her so that she sat on his waist, her interior heat scorching and soaking his belly, setting his spine on fire like a torched tree. He let her slide slowly toward his rigid flesh. When she felt him, she adjusted her hips to coax him to her entrance and he impaled her with a single thrust. She was full and soft as she sank her enveloping heat onto him, contracted and cried out at the shock to her body. He cupped her bottom to support her hips and felt their hearts beat in synchrony inside her. When he finally began to move in her it was slow and circumscribed.

"No, Patrick. Don't hold back. Please."

"But it will be over . . . "

"I don't care. We'll do it again."

She arched backward and groaned, trying to hold on for his answer, but the low vibration that had started inside was winding up to take control of her.

Jane began to thrust hard and Lisbon angled her hips to glide along him, meet every thrust. Suddenly she closed on him, called his name and cried out as her rhythmic spasms demanded of her. He was already pulsing into her. He could feel his cock pumping jet after jet that had nowhere to go because he was so deeply embedded inside this woman who demanded his ecstasy, their juices dripping down his thighs. He captured her mouth to moan his pleasure into her body. As her muscles relaxed she sighed in relief and she rested her head on his breast.

When he began to tire, Lisbon still in his arms and wrapped around his waist while his leg muscles relaxed into utter rubber, he lifted her away. A small group of topless young women walked past them, giggling. He had no idea how many others might have watched them couple in oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane pulled his shorts on and watched Lisbon while she did the same.

"I don't usually wear much clothing around here. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me. I'm a different sort of woman now than you remember maybe."

He took a couple of steps to quietly face her as she looked up at him. "I know the type of woman you are now. Always sand on her breasts."

He brushed them, admiring strokes, and the way his gaze was cast told her he found them beautiful. Her flesh yielded and bounced as he flicked sand particles away, nipples rising as his fingers passed over them. He settled his hands at her waist.

What Jane felt was too large, too profound to try to speak it. Thoughts raced and jumbled like kittens chasing string and he didn't know where to start. Lisbon, who knew him so well, saw this in his open mouth and questioning eyes.

"Did you know I was here?"

"No idea. Complete surprise. In fact, shocked that you'd be near anything associated with me. Much less my old house . . . that . . ."

"I know. I can't sleep anywhere else, Jane. I've been all over California and even Hawaii. But I can only sleep here. I didn't mean to squat."

"When I came downstairs to swim, I saw someone had set up to live here. But little did I know . . . the squatter of my dreams." He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"You're not going to sell it?"

"I'm not now."

Lisbon smiled and puffed in relief. She really hadn't thought about future arrangements. Of course, she'd have to come off of the beach someday and get back to real life. She just hadn't made plans for it. Jane was a little puzzled by her attachment to the place, knowing its history.

He said again, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like," but she looked at him doubtfully. "No, I mean it, Lisbon. For as long as you need to. But stay in the main house. You don't have to hole up down here."

"I wouldn't do that, Jane. It's too big. And it's not mine. And I didn't have permission. And I didn't want to talk to you. I came here one night needing a place to crash and slept for the first time in months and I just haven't wanted to give that up."

"Of course not." She was so serious and open. "But now I'm here and I give my permission. Whole-heartedly. Yes, Teresa?"

She nodded and nestled against him to hug his waist. It was the act of a wanderer, grateful to have found real shelter and to know she wouldn't be chased off again. He held her in a loose embrace. "I'll get the utilities turned on for you. And have it cleaned up. And, well, don't go into that room until I have it seen to. Okay?"

"I wouldn't."

"I know. I just don't want you to see it again when I've already made arrangements to have it taken care of."

"You seem different, Jane."

"Maybe so."

"You left me."

It was an honest blow that he knew was coming, but it crushed him just the same. "I was ashamed. You took the blame for what I had done, and I let you. I couldn't face you."

"I was the boss. The consequences are mine. I told you long ago I had accepted that one day you'd get me fired." She pulled away from him, tears streaming down her face. "You did the worst thing you could have done."

"I'm sorry. I have a knack for that."

"Why didn't you come for me?"

"You disappeared."

"I disappeared because you didn't come for me. You just went on to another job. I couldn't believe it."

"It didn't feel like that inside me."

She was furious, the pain running like a wound re-opened. But she needed to understand what he seemed willing to tell her. "What did it feel like?"

"Like the biggest, emptiest hole in the universe and I had to have something to occupy my time while I tried to work things out."

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have understood."

"Would you? I didn't think so. Either way, you would assume I was leaving you. I couldn't face you. And I thought you might find a better life without me hanging on and dragging you down while I tried to sort the whirling in my head."

Lisbon considered this. He was right. She would have believed him gone whether he'd made excuses for it to her or not. It didn't matter if he thought one thing and she thought another. There was enough hell to go around and they'd each visited every corner of theirs.

"You don't seem confused now."

"Not at all. Just terribly lonely until a little while ago."

"Why?"

He spoke carefully now, knowing that his answer would trigger Lisbon's natural jealousy. "Someone helped me."

"You went to another shrink?"

"No. My boss. At work."

"Oh." Lisbon dropped her head. He couldn't talk to her, but he could talk to his boss at work and figure everything out. Jane in guy to guy talk like that? Never. The boss must be a woman. What was it with Jane and lady bosses?

Jane tucked a finger under her chin, chucking it up to meet his eyes. "Ask your questions, Lisbon."

"Is your boss a woman?"

"Yes. Kim. Kim Fischer. Good woman."

There it was! The green fire lit in Lisbon's eyes as her face tightened in anger. "As good as me?"

Jane chuckled affectionately before thinking and then had to choke it back, feigning a cough when Lisbon looked like she would punch him in the nose. "Never. Never as good as you. She helped me see that it's you I need, you I want, you I needed to find and be with."

"But you didn't find me."

"I tried. You left no traces. Only a protected account."

"That wouldn't have stopped the FBI."

"Why? You weren't wanted for anything. You set up the account that way to protect your privacy. After all I'd done to you, I wasn't going to destroy your last protection."

"Weren't you even worried, curious, about where I was, what I was doing, what happened to me?" Her voice went low. "Was I alive or dead?"

"Of course. The whole time."

"Are you going to ask me?"

"You can tell me about where you've been later, because it doesn't matter right now. The alive part is all I care about. And that you're alive with me right now."

"You know what, Patrick Jane? For such a smart guy, you make all the wrong moves. I don't believe you anyway. I think you were just scared to find me and do what needed to be done, say what needed to be said, to be with me."

"No. It wasn't like that. I was making myself sick trying to pretend I could live without you. It was only by knowing how much I needed you, wanted you . . . loved you, Lisbon, That helped me get well."

"But not so well you'd break my protected account apart to find me." She shook her head.

"No. I wasn't going to do that. If you didn't want to be found, especially by me, I would totally understand and find a way to accept it."

Lisbon flew at him, slapping his arms before she grabbed them and shook him, screaming her anguish. "NO! How could you assume that about me? Never do that. NEVER! I would never want to be without you, Patrick." She collapsed against his chest, sobbing. "You're so willing to suffer in self-denial, you don't even consider the suffering you cause another person by it. So twisted. Such a waste."

"I don't understand how you could care about me, want me. All I've ever done is bring you misery."

"You know that's not true. Not all, anyway. 'The heart wants what the heart wants.' Remember?" She looked into his eyes and said gently, "I've seen the worst side of you, and I have always loved you."

Surprised for a moment by her echoing words, he felt a wave of affection and love pour over him and then flow back to her like surf. He kissed her sweetly, then held her in a loose embrace, as she fidgeted in his arms like a restless bird in a cage too small. "I could do without you quoting my nonsense back to me, little bird."

"It's not nonsense. It's true."

"Yes. I have to admit, it's true for me." Her breasts moving against him all this time made him want to know them better so, separating himself a little, he bent to kiss them. Where they had settled on his skin were patches of damp warmth that cooled in the ocean air, pricking up her nipples. He tongued the sweet buds and the sensation drove him to do it again and again.

The shock of his warm mouth on her cooling skin, licking her hard nipples with his wide fleshy tongue, was erotic beyond bearing and she moaned, her hips jutting toward him in reflex. "I've never felt your mouth on me there. How can it be so good?"

He smiled. "I'm just glad it is. It's a delicious first for my tongue, too." He wanted to remember the feel of her on his tongue, savor it and play it over and over in his mind over a cup of tea. When they had settled back in, he would make proper love to her. "Now put some clothes on and let's go get something to eat. We can talk more when we get back."

Lisbon took her braids loose and began brushing her hair. It was so glossy and beautiful, the waves from the braiding making it ripple enough to giddy the eye. He took the brush from her so that he could handle the tresses that fell almost to her waist, feel them run over his hands like silk water.

He couldn't take his eyes off how healthy, how sleek she was, her every feature a curve. Her loose hair caressed the sides of her breasts, curling against them as if to make love. The sun had whitened her teeth, dazzling and childlike. She should never leave this place. She was born to weave the threads of her footsteps where the sea met the sand, weave them into a life that would make her happy.

When he was done brushing, he kissed her neck, caressed the soft lines of her waist at the top of her hips, and let her throw a top over her naked torso.

Lisbon hadn't eaten in a restaurant for quite a while, content to live and cook simply from her camp kitchen and dine in the open air. It was nice sharing a meal with Patrick and they filled each other in on the basic structure of what had passed with them in each other's absence.

By the time they returned it was dusk and they took a short nude swim, splashing around and enjoying one another's company. Lisbon went into her basement room as Jane finished drying himself and brushing the sand away. She lit several candles as was her custom and lay down on her bed. She was filled with desire for Patrick, the anticipation of their lovemaking flushing her already. Her hands began to roam her body, sliding across her breasts and belly. Opening her legs, she brushed the delta of her sex, ruffling the short tuft of hair she kept there and petting her closed labia.

Jane walked in with his shorts back on. He watched as she touched herself, her skin aglow with highlights from the candles, and then saw that she was looking at him. She glanced at the tent forming in the front of his clothes and he pulled them off immediately, his cock filling and rising as it had when he first recognized her and she had rocketed into his arms and onto his straining male flesh.

"What are we doing?" A small smile played on his face as he made a tube of his hands and stroked himself lightly, down and up just once, standing a few feet away.

"I want to see what you do to yourself."

"Oooooooh," he sighed approvingly. "That's very nice. And I get to watch you?"

"Of course. I want you to. Very much. I know you'll remember everything you see." She smiled and winked at him.

Jane moved closer, chuckling. As if she needed to cue him to use his memory palace for this!

She pinched her erect nipples with one hand and continued to pet herself with the other.

"I can't see."

"Come as close as you like. Just keep your hands to yourself, little boy." She threw her head back and chortled delightedly at the atmosphere she was conjuring. Then she angled her body and opened her legs so that he could see what she was doing.

When he saw the pink of her, cushioned underneath by the globes of her shapely bottom, he groaned and began to stroke himself as he watched. She did the same, her eyes on his large, impossibly graceful hands and long fingers that he held sometimes straight out while he ringed a thumb around the shaft or closed fully around his cock as he grew more excited. The structure of his male flesh was full and long and pleasing, the head plump as a plum. She watched as it bobbed at the top of his closed fist.

He wanted to know more. "What do you do with your fing . . . gers, oh!" Gripping his length, he slid a knuckle back and forth across the ridge of tissue just under the head, watching her answer. She had plunged them inside herself, sliding vigorously in and out, everything shining with moisture in the candlelight.

Her eyes followed his fingers, how they moved against his skin, applying pressure here and there, squeezing just under the plump head. She could tell when he would think about coming, or maybe he was just getting very excited, because he rolled curved fingers over the glans and lightly pressed his middle finger into the indented hole there. It excited her that he wanted to come. But he backed off to watch what she was doing to herself again, stroking himself easy.

Close enough to touch her knee, he pulled it towards himself and peered over her leg to watch her hands. She spread herself open for him to exhibit her aroused clitoris. There was slick everywhere, but he didn't go after it, much as his mouth watered to taste her. The nub was fat and low. It would be very easy to make her come when he coupled with her, bumping it and making it glide against his rock-hard cock. He shivered. She used two fingers and her thumb to pinch and stroke, rotate and rub. When she diddled the tip, she bucked up and widened her legs to hold herself open, her hips straining in the air.

He caught her looking at his balls, and then questioning him with her eyes, so he lowered his hand to show her what he liked there. He loved to feel the weight of them on his fingers, letting them roll as he brushed their fuzzy surface, even the back, grazing his thumb along the front valley between them. They were firm and full of seed wanting out. "Your babies are in here," he said.

Teresa's mouth fell open. Then she skimmed the lower part of her belly over her ovaries, saying, "And yours are in here."

Lisbon's eyes seemed to roll back as she closed the lids and her lashes settled against her cheeks. Deep and regular, her breathing was interspersed with musical whining notes. Jane had wrapped his fist entirely around himself, pulling so the skin moved up and down with his grip. "Lisbon," he whispered to bring her back to what he knew she wanted to see.

Her eyes fluttered open to watch him in extremis, biting his lip and grunting, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" as his meat pounded in his hand. He pulled at her leg to get her to center her open hips directly in front of him and when he came a beat later, shot hot semen directly onto her vulva, calling out his release and smiling. She smeared his seed into her juices and came, her hips surging forward with every contraction of her heaving womb. Jane felt the blood rush out of his head as he lost all concentration and finished spilling against the sex of the woman he loved more than life.

He fell against her on the mattress, curled into her neck and side. "Lisbon. Lisbon. Teresa." He sounded choked as he tried to hold back the pain and suffering that had been relieved by his healing intimacy with her. The sound was high and wounded, a soft yelping that Teresa understood.

Turning to him and stroking his hair, she drew him close and told him with her own sobbing breath, "It's okay, Patrick. We're safe. We've found each other now. Everything is all right."

They slept until dawn, Patrick's old jacket cast to the side. He got up first, staring out the window at the blushing ocean. Picking up his jacket, he felt both grief and relief at what it had meant to Teresa without him. Her deep loneliness and pining assuaged by his scent so that she could relax to sleep. He swore never to leave her alone again, no matter how undeserving he ever felt. It hurt him, but worse, it hurt the woman he loved and he could not bear that thought.

He watched her sleep like a girl, hair spread across her pillow and her fists curled on the ends of arms crossing at her chest, as if protecting her heart. Her succulent bottom stuck out at the top of her bent legs, fleshy and firm. There was so much of her yet to sample and love and know!

For her, he could create a new life here. For her, he could air the ghosts from the house and make warm memories in their stead. She should fill this house, make it her own, make it theirs and bring it back to life. Under her hand, he could live. She could conjure them a life from the sand and the sea. Lure him out again where life was liquid and cool, where he could be a natural animal, a man to her woman. Everything about her called him to it.

Lisbon rolled to her back. "Ready for a swim?"

"Let's go, sleepy head. I'm waiting on you."

It was a beautiful morning, shot with pink quicksilver that faded as the sun came over the horizon. They didn't swim so much as take turns lolling in one another's arms, just looking, and feeling the pleasure of their great fortune in finding each other again.

"Will you come back to Sacramento with me?"

"You want to wind things up there?" She knew he had no intention of being anywhere without her again. And he had to know she would not live there.

"That's the plan." He hesitated and she waited to hear what he hadn't told her yet.

"CBI is being reconstituted, you know."

"No. I didn't know." She had to admit it peaked her interest.

"The FBI wants me to stay with them."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't want to stay in Sacramento anymore. You belong here."

Lisbon watched the sun glint from Jane's messy mop of curls, struck wild by the humid sea air. "You want to live here?"

"I do. With you. If you don't want to live here, we'll go somewhere else."

"That's the strangest marriage proposal I've ever heard."

"Just how many proposals have you heard, Agent Lisbon?"

She laughed. "Okay. Only one. And it was high school traditional."

"Oh? I'll have to google that era."

He scooped her into his arms, rivulets of seawater sparkling as they dribbled from her body and flowed from her hair. "Teresa Lisbon, I want you to marry me. And I don't want to wait. Will you?"

"First of all, do you want more babies?"

"Yes. You know I do. Lots or however many you want. What else?"

"You won't ever run away from me again?"

"Never. You know I won't."

"Okay. I will marry you."

"Wait! Don't I get to ask you some questions?"

"You already asked me to marry you. Too late. Sorry."

Jane smiled and held her up as she wrapped her arms around him for a long kiss. "I guess I'll just have to take what I get then. Oh. Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart. I love you."

"It's Valentine's Day? In that case, let's go in and make it special."

He used his left hand to move strands of sopping hair from her face. That's when she spotted it, and couldn't believe that she hadn't already checked for it. No ring.

"I took it off a while back, carrying it in my jacket pocket. I just put it away day before yesterday. I guess it was a good omen, huh?"

Lisbon pulled his hand closer to examine the finger. The indentation of the ring was there, but she could tell the finger was already filling in, having been unbound for quite some time. "Huh. I don't know what to say."

"Nothing to say. It was just time."

"I suppose your boss helped you with that, too."

"Yes," he said cautiously, "she did."

Lisbon only waited a moment before smiling at him and saying "I'm glad."


	4. Chapter 4

They dashed in from the beach without being spotted and made love the long way, taking care to apply the knowledge they'd learned by watching each other the night before and increasing the pleasure by their own experimentation and inclinations, founded on a desire to satisfy one another deeply. Neither one could remember when they'd felt better, happier.

"What do you do to shower?"

"Beach showers. I just bring some soap and do my best."

"I think I need more than that. Let me make a call. I know someone."

Lisbon smiled and rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

Ralph came by in the early evening and turned on the water.

"How long before they cut it off again?" Lisbon asked after Ralph had been paid and left.

"What? No. Didn't you see his uniform? He's legit. I just tip him big when I need him and he'll come."

"Okay. Let's see how it works."

"We need to run the lowest spigot in the house first, get the air out of the pipes. I guess that would be out here."

Jane set about getting the plumbing in working order and then brought Lisbon to the dusty master bath. The tub was huge and Lisbon delighted in rinsing it out and filling it up. No bubbles, but they could do that later.

She stopped to see Jane looking at her wistfully and the happiness went out of her face. "I'm sorry, Jane. Is it sad memories?" They might have a big problem keeping this house.

"No, actually. Surprised there's not, is all. There's nothing here, really. Angela and Charlotte are gone. You and I are here. I couldn't be happier, today, with my valentine." He looked at her, eyes deep and dark. "I'm going to fuck you senseless in this tub, woman!"

Lisbon pretend-screamed and flopped into the water, splashing it everywhere. Jane stepped in, ducked under the water and surfaced like a snake next to her face. He licked her cheek, then hissed and, striking, bit her ear lobe.

"Ow! You viper!" She put her mouth just under his jaw near the ear and began to suck vigorously. That would raise one hell of a mark! Let his boss and all his colleagues see that! She pulled away singing, "Jane's got a gi-irl, Jane's got a gi-irl!"

"You little vixen! Patrick Jane will have a wife!"

Lisbon quieted and stared at him a moment, then broke into a wide smile. "And Teresa Lisbon will have a husband. The love of her life."

A bolt of lust shot through her, taking her breath and coloring her cheeks, her eyes deep and dark and ringed with shining green. Jane recognized it immediately and met her urgency, springing to life himself.

She had gone limp in the water, physically overcome by her own desire. Jane supported her while he kissed the sense back into her and, when she responded, lodged himself at the mouth of her vagina, begging entrance while he gently mouthed and teased her breasts. She widened her legs, gasping as he entered her and worked his way slowly in. He held her waist tightly and began to thrust hard, making waves in the tub and making Teresa cry out, "Patrick!"

"I love you, Teresa. My sweet girl." Jane could tell her body was already over-stimulated, trembling as she looked at him with a sultry light in her eyes.

"I can feel everything about you inside me, Patrick."

"Can you? Tell me about it."

"The head of your penis swells up so fat, so big when you're hard. It pushes me open when you slide in and it's not so easy for it to pull back out against me because I'm so swollen up in there."

"I know. You feel like heaven when I pull out. It's like you're closed in behind the head of my cock, sucking on it to keep it inside you. You're so soft and so full, Teresa. Hot and sultry. A wonderful deep, soft mouth for my whole cock. Its wonderful new home. I'm so happy."

"Do you care if we splash a lot of water?"

"Is there more to splash out? Let's do it." He was kissing her gently as they talked, buried deep and beginning to throb.

"Give it to me hard, then, okay?"

Jane pulled back and slammed into her. "Like that?" She arched and moaned.

"Yes. Keep going. Hold me tight so I don't slip away from you and give it to me hard. Don't stop. I want to feel the power of your body."

He flipped the drain lever down with his toe to let the water level sink and make it easier for them as they labored. Then he gripped her waist at the hip with both of his large hands and let his wild self go at her. Setting a pounding rhythm, holding her hips low for maximum penetration. She was maddening, her head forced low on his shoulder by their position, biting him.

He forced her legs over his arms as the last of the water drained from the tub and he fucked her through two orgasms, screaming from her chest at the last one as she held onto his arms, digging her nails in. Patrick relished it. Finally he exploded inside her, perhaps the greatest release of his life. He groaned in ecstasy, sharp sounds that could have been agony as well. Tipping her hips up, still lodged in her, he watched the cream ooze from where they were joined, beautiful and white and rich, full of life. "Oh. God. Teresa," he said and then lay beside her as they recovered together.

Jane stood in the tub and started the water, adjusting it for temperature before he turned on the shower. Then he sat and washed her, lavishly, thoroughly, lovingly as she lay in the tub both of them dripping as if under a warm summer rain. Lisbon was overwhelmed at his tenderness, soaking up the love he poured through his hands to her. She had never felt so treasured. When he was finished, he offered her a hand up, soaping himself while she rinsed. She did his back, hips and bottom, lathering thoroughly between his cheeks and playing with the tender tissue back there.

Jane sighed and turned around. "I like that."

"So I see." She arched her eyes at his goods, nearing half-mast. "Don't worry. I won't forget."

"I want to savor what went on in the tub just now. I don't want to push it out of my mind with something new."

"That's good. Remember every second of it. Then when I get old and forget, you can tell me every detail and make me horny for you and chase you around in my walker."

"Mmmmmm. Nice." He kissed her nose and changed the subject. "I've got three days here to see to things. Electricity. Housecleaning detail. Some furniture and linens. Some dishware."

"Ugh. I'm already tired. You plan the wedding."

He stuck his tongue out at her.

"You flash that wide wet muscle at me again and you'll find yourself flat on your ass, kissing my abyss."

"Ooooh. Agent. I love it when you get all authoritarian on me."

"So you've said."

"Okay. Well, we at least have to have a bed."

"Let's just drag the mattress upstairs. I don't want to pick furniture in a hurry."

"Sounds good to me."

Jane prattled on while Lisbon made calls to set up utilities and housecleaning, to be done while they were in Sacramento.

"Jane?"

He stopped prattling and looked at her. "Yes?"

"When will we get married?"

He stared at her open-mouthed. "Well, I have jumped the gun a little bit, haven't I?"

Lisbon just smiled.

"Tell you what, let's forget this furnishing the house business and focus on rings and licenses. No need to wait. Where do you want to marry?"

"That's what I like in a man— flexibility! Let's just marry here in Malibu since we're going to live here."

"All right. It's Monday. I know a doctor in town. We'll get the blood tests today. Maybe we can apply for the license online. If not—"

"I know. You know someone who can expedite things."

"Well, yes. Is that bad?"

"No. It's you and I love it. I love a man who can get things done." She smiled and kissed him.

Jane bought her ring that afternoon, a lovely thing in buttery gold with a chunky yellow diamond that begged other women to die of envy. But mostly it was just dazzlingly beautiful. They bought the matching wedding bands for the ceremony.

It actually took a few weeks to get everything in order. Lisbon stayed away from Jane's work while she was in Sacramento, saying, "I'm not ready for my coming out party yet."

"Well, when you are, you'll be the loveliest debutante at the ball!" He put no pressure on her at all. She had more than earned the right to say what she did and did not want in her life at any given moment. And he would honor it to the best of his ability.

Lisbon finally did meet Jane's boss, Kim, because he wanted her to be one of the witnesses at their simple civil ceremony. Lisbon told her brothers there was no need for them to gather since there was no reception planned, but they discussed it amongst themselves and sent Tommy to represent them. Annie tagged along, of course.

The newlyweds spent the weekend at a posh hotel, holed up, and ordered room service rather than leave for anything except the ice they decided to play with in a round of lovemaking. Lisbon had never felt anything so scintillating on her clitoris than ice alternating with Jane's warm, capable tongue.

The house was clean, lit and had the beginnings of furniture, appliances and things to eat from and a table by a kitchen window to eat on. It was more than enough for a start. They chose a heavy, lustrous pole bed, christening it as soon as the delivery truck left and they could get the sheets on. They ran naked as much as they could.

Jane left the FBI but didn't bother to transfer his consultancy to a closer field office. He said they didn't need the money, so why push it until they were more settled and could think what they wanted to do career-wise, if anything. The re-forming CBI kept in frequent contact with both of them, trying to lure them back. It was not yet on their agenda.

They were on the big bed with the afternoon light pouring in. Jane had fallen asleep reading and Lisbon was on the laptop, paying bills. Neither was dressed, having showered shortly before settling to relax in bed. Jane rolled onto his stomach and sighed in his sleep. God, she loved his perfectly round firm ass! Setting the laptop on the floor next to the bed, she lay crosswise from him on her stomach to kiss the flesh that never failed to move her.

Pressing her face into him with each kiss, she suckled his flesh lightly to soften the smack as she let go. She handled the globes until she thought her hands would raise electricity. Jane moaned and shifted his hips. She pushed each cheek up to kiss underneath at the crease of his legs, then pushed them gently apart to run her tongue on the flesh behind his balls. Although he had not yet openly responded to her, she could see his hardening dick poking from under his body as she fed between his legs. She flicked her tongue across the head and he hissed.

"That feels so good," Jane said to the mattress, lying still so that she could continue.

She spread the cheeks and blew into the crevice, taking in the scent of their soap. He pushed his rump up and settled his cock into a more comfortable position under his belly. Pulling a small bottle of lubricant from under the pillow, she slathered it on him and on her finger.

The initial chill made him wiggle. "I love when you do this."

When she nestled her finger against him and slid it back and forth over the sensitive opening, he moaned and moved with her. He reached under his pillow, tore open a packet with his teeth and pushed a condom at her.

"I guess you're ready for me, then. I'm ready for you." She rolled the condom over two fingers to protect him from her nails and slipped them inside to massage and caress him, kissing and squeezing his bottom as he surrendered completely to her touch. When he rolled a little to his side and took hold of himself, she said, "No, me," and positioned her body to keep her fingers inside him but her mouth on his penis, concentrating on the head.

He groaned like a sick man, keeping his body as still as he could for awhile so that she could have him as she wanted, ensuring his own delirious gratification.

"Buzz me, Lisbon." He reached under her pillow and pushed a small, slender vibrator and another condom towards her. The buzz, as Patrick called it, looked like it was made of grape kool-aid. It was a lot of fun in inventive hands.

Taking her covered fingers out of him, she rolled a clean condom over the vibrator and, turning it on, played it all along and into his eager flesh, rimming the opening completely. When she put her mouth on him again, he braced his hands lightly on her shoulders, trying to control his movements and keep from wildly thrusting into her mouth and hurting her. Then she dipped the vibrator onto his prostate and after several moments he shouted and his hips jerked hard. She barely had time to remove the buzz before he pulled her up to his face to kiss her and, moaning ecstasy into her mouth, poured warmth onto her belly.

Lisbon rested on her pillow, still thinking of Jane's unabashed sexual responses. They had fallen into a naturally adventurous sex life with many favorite methods and positions that somehow managed to be a little different every time. She couldn't imagine a better partner and he seemed to be very satisfied with her. They could really ask each other for anything.

Patrick snuggled next to her, intending to finish his nap, but got distracted by her round, brown breasts with their pink tips. He caressed her, thumbing them.

"Ouch! You're too rough!"

"Oh, sorry." His eyes opened wide in surprise as he ran a fingertip around the aureole instead. "Am I?"

He raised his head to examine her more closely. "You look a little swollen, sweetie."

He looked at her thoughtfully, then cocked his head slightly, puzzled. "I haven't learned your cycles yet. Where are you in that? Are you most tender when you ovulate or when you menstruate?"

"Hey! That's a little personal. Figure it out for yourself!"

"Too personal for your husband? Hmph." He pretended to be insulted. Then he decided to kiss her breasts instead.

This she responded to more positively until he got worked up and hard and she was beginning to sigh. He started sucking and thumbing her nipples more aggressively.

"Ow! Too rough. I told you."

He was really suspicious now. She'd never responded this way. Kissing his way down her belly, he stopped to look at her from this new angle. Those boobs were larger, softer as if they'd had a fill-up with water from her body. When he started kissing her below, she opened her legs for him and he went for her hungrily. In a few minutes, he looked up at her, puzzled again.

"You smell different."

"Are you saying I need a bath, Patrick Jane?"

"No. You just smell different. I think there's two of you."

"What?"

"I think you're pregnant."

"Patrick," she said doubtfully. "You're making this up. Stop playing psychic. Pregnancy has a scent?"

"Yes. You'd make different hormones and chemicals. Of course your scent would be different. Your taste, too. And, it is. "Your tits are bigger." He put his hand on her belly. "Here, too, a little bit. It's swelled, low. Turn over."

Intrigued now, she did as he asked. "I taste different?"

But he didn't answer, continuing his current investigation. He looked at her hindquarters carefully. The spread of her hips was different. Wider, yes, but tilted a little differently, too.

"Shouldn't you have had a period by now?"

"No. I'll have one when I have one. I'd know if—" Lisbon stopped mid-sentence. They'd been so busy, she couldn't remember exactly when her last period was.

"I thought women wrote these things down."

"Shut up, Patrick, I'm trying to think."

"I think you might be about two weeks late. We haven't done anything to prevent it. I'm surprised it's taken this long." He went back to kissing between her legs, sure that new life in her was causing these changes. He wanted to savor everything about what their child was doing to his Teresa. It seemed to have made her more sensitive everywhere.

Lisbon thought she might be more like three weeks late but with his mouth on her, she didn't want to think it through.

.x.x.x.x.x.

Patrick Jane reached a hand to his young son, a sturdy five-year old who already thought he was always the smartest person in the room.

Today's events reminded Jane of the day he had met this boy, newborn. He had carefully peeled the folds of the infant's blanket back to peer at the totality of the baby, and the first naked thing he did was pee in his father's face.

Teresa had held her stomach to keep the pain of her mirth from shaking her sore insides apart.

"That's my boy," Jane had laughed, his face dripping.

Lisbon hooted. "Ha, ha! I'm going to enjoy this!"

Now, the boy's wild chestnut curls bounced with his steps as he looked up with worshipful emerald eyes and said, "Daddy! I love you! Where are we going?"

"We're going to see Mommy at the hospital. Come on, let's buckle you in next to your brother. We're going to meet your new baby sister."

"Yay! We need somebody new in this family!" He looked at his younger brother and stuck out his tongue.

The younger boy, about three years old, smaller-boned, with blonde wavy hair and sea green eyes, was buckled into the back seat. He returned the tongue and mouthed a rude noise. He would always try to top his brother! "Stinky!"

When Jane had both boys buckled in, the car seat for the new baby between them, he started the family SUV for the trip to the hospital.

The boys ran to their mother as they entered her room and got in a tussle over who would get on the bed with her first. Both ended in a wrestling heap on the floor.

"Boys!" Jane said loudly, and they got up. "Straighten your clothes to meet your new sister." They did as they were told and then quietly peered over the top of the high mattress at their mother with a small bundle in her arms.

"She looks like me!" shouted the five-year-old. "Look! She has brown hair!"

"No! Me!" said the younger boy for no reason except to contradict his brother.

Teresa Lisbon Jane looked at her family. Such a gift after so many years of uncertainty, danger and strife. Her reward made it all worthwhile.

"Boys, you can climb up one at a time. Then Daddy can take a picture of all of us together.

Jane restrained the oldest, pouting, with a hand on his shoulder, while he helped the now middle child get on the bed for a hug and a kiss from his mother. When the older boy was released, he jumped and threw a leg up, climbing easily to get his "sugar" from his mommy.

Looking at the four things he loved most in life, Patrick could not believe his good fortune. He kissed each one of them soundly, then took the little girl from his mother's arms and carefully unwrapped her to examine every bit of her as he had done the first two. He lowered her for her brothers to see. A wet stream bubbled out of her at the lower end, dripping to the floor.

"She's piddling!" the two boys shouted and fell back, laughing.

"Oh!" Teresa giggled. "I'm going to enjoy this!"

Patrick laughed at the reference, saying, "Well, at least she doesn't have good aim!"

He grabbed a clean blanket from the hospital bassinet nearby and, cleaning her up with the old blanket, transferred her into the new. He wrapped his new baby daughter and put her back in her mother's arms, bending to give his wife a long, full kiss. His own cheeks were pink with pleasure as he watched her already begin to flush, so quick to spark.

"You'd better stop now or we'll be starting a fourth!"

"I love 'em," Jane countered. "Bring it on!"


End file.
